


Heavensent

by Eastling (Annwyd)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:03:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3484127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annwyd/pseuds/Eastling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam oversteps himself just a little and finds something he wasn't meant to see just yet. But it gets a smile out of Steve, and that's what matters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavensent

Sam is more of a soldier than a spy, but that doesn't mean he's oblivious to what goes on around him. He might have missed the first time Steve pauses and studies him from across the room, but he's pretty sure he catches the second time. At the very least, it can't be more than the third time when he notices. He's busy going through a cabinet to find the right cereal for a late breakfast after he and Steve spent the morning discussing plans, but he sees it out of the corner of his eye: Steve looking at him like he's an awesome mystery to be unraveled. It's a very serious gaze, not outright cold but stripped of Steve's usual ready warmth as well. He's just _looking_.

There's no way he can come up with a clever response in time, so he gets his cereal and lets the moment pass. But Sam promises himself he'll have a good remark ready for if it happens again. Something clever that will make Steve smile and mean it. He's been so absorbed in his work lately--in hunting Hydra, in finding his friend--and Sam can't fault him for it, can only support him in it, but if there's a way to get him to take a break, he'll find it.

It happens again the next day when they're both going over some newspapers for clues; Steve glances over the top of his paper and keeps looking. Sam meets his gaze this time, ready to comment.

But Steve beats him to it, and the smile that jumps to his lips is the one that covers things up. "Did you find the sports scores? I still haven't decided who to root for these days."

_All right, big guy,_ Sam thinks, _if that's how you want to play it, I'll let you have this secret for now._ It's not like it's a bad thing to have those blue eyes focused on him. "Oh, man," he says. "Don't tell me you're thinking of abandoning New York."

"Hey," Steve says, "the Dodgers abandoned _us_ , not the other way around."

The moment passes. The mystery remains unsolved.

Steve stays at Sam's house late that night. The two of them pore over some old S.H.I.E.L.D. files past any reasonable bedtime, and Sam finds himself starting to doze off. The scratching of pencil on paper wakes him, but when he looks up, Steve is already turning the page in his notebook to make a new set of notes.

Sam has a suspicion, then, but it seems a little weird and self-congratulatory. He tries to put it out of his mind. That works fine for two days. On the third day, Steve accidentally leaves his notebook on Sam's front table.

Sam is a professional. He has integrity. He knows when he finds the notebook lying there that he isn't going to rifle through it. He's going to pick it up and put it somewhere prominent so he'll remember to take it with him when he meets Steve over coffee the next day.

He puts his hand on the notebook. His fingers twitch. The notebook falls off the table and splays open on the floor.

Sam picks it up quickly and _almost_ manages to close it without looking. But he's only human, and his eyes snap to the page before he can stop himself.

He exhales a sigh of relief. It's nothing personal: just a list of several decades with a couple of classic movies written under each one.

"Serves you right," he mutters to himself. "You're not _spying_ on him, you're his friend." Somehow, the last word feels weird on his tongue. He starts to close the notebook, and as the pages flutter, he catches sight of something that doesn't fit on the next one. Before he can stop himself, he turns the page.

In an instant, his world goes a little bit tilted and sideways.

Sam takes a deep breath. He starts to close the notebook, and then he stops. He starts to push it away from him, back onto the table, and then he stops.

"All right, all right," he says out loud. "Be cool, Falcon, be cool--just because Captain America draws a picture of you doesn't mean anything. He didn't even color it in, it doesn't mean anything."

He looks down at the sketch again.

"Okay," he says, "just because Steve Rogers draws a really damn fantastic picture of you with--are those angel wings?"

The picture is a bust shot, and the wings stretching up from the shoulders are definitely angelic.

"Be cool," Sam repeats to himself. "It doesn't mean anything."

He closes the book with a fierce snap.

That's when the door opens. "Sorry--I should have knocked, but," and then Steve stops talking. He stares at Sam with the notebook in his hands with a perfect expression of faint dismay and creeping guilt. Sam is pretty sure his own face matches.

"You found it," Steve finally says. "Uh, thanks, I guess."

"Sorry, dude," Sam says. "I didn't mean to look, it just kind of happened. My bad. I'll buy the coffee tomorrow." He hands back the notebook.

Steve tries to smile. Sam sees the expression start to form, sees the thoughts flashing behind his eyes as he tries to come up with a clever reply. It all fizzles out before it's even done, though, and Steve just nods. "Don't worry about it," he says, and he leaves.

* * *

Sam pays for the coffee before Steve arrives and claims them both a table in the corner. They both feel a bit more comfortable with that kind of vantage point lately.

When Steve arrives, the two of them sit in silence for a while. Sam keeps waiting for Steve to make some comment, to smile, to joke. He doesn't.

In the end, Sam bites the bullet. "So, uh...are we..." Or he tries, anyway.

Steve looks at him. That old distress is there in his eyes, the slightest hint of hollowness behind their handsome cheer. The same thing that made Sam reach out to him that first time they met on the mall. "Are we what?"

"I was gonna say 'dating,'" Sam says. "I mean, you drew me as an angel, Steve. And now we're going out for coffee."

"The coffee would have happened anyway," Steve says.

"Yeah, I know," Sam says. "But like I said, I was _gonna_ say dating, but it's a little more complicated than that, isn't it? Just a hunch."

Steve looks down at his coffee. "It was going to be a thank you gift," he finally says. "For everything you've done for me." His words are quiet and honest. Sam almost holds his breath, hoping for more. And when Steve looks up, his gaze is very open. "It just didn't seem finished, though. Then I drew the wings, and..." He lets out a breath and smiles now, a real and slightly weak smile. "Boy, that got awkward fast."

"Hey," Sam says, "this is the best kind of awkward anyone can hope for."

The smile fades again. It was too fragile to start with. "I don't know what I hope for," Steve says. "I thought I just wanted to make things right again. For the world. For Bucky. For everyone who's helped me in the past."

"What about for you?" Sam asks.

Steve blinks and squints a little.

"All right, maybe that's going too fast," Sam says.

"I wasn't thinking about me," Steve says.

"Oh, I know you weren't," Sam says. "That's why I'm the angel coming in to beat you about the head with my majestic feathery wings until you do again."

Steve grins. It's half charming and half real. "I think I started hoping to make things right with you at my side."

"You've already got that, Steve," Sam says. "No need to hope for it."

Steve's fair cheeks flush pink. It's so unexpected and surreal that Sam almost panics for a second--is he sick? But no.

Captain America is blushing at him.

"Don't," Sam says. "Oh, man, don't, I'm gonna--this is some romance novel BS right here, Steve, don't do this to me."

The blush fades, and Steve focuses on him. When he smiles, it's all charming and all real. Sam feels like he's caught in a snare made of sex appeal and affection. "I'll turn it down," he says, "if you let me finish the picture."

"What?" Sam blinks.

"What, wasn't I obvious enough?" Steve gestures. "Let me get a good look at you shirtless."

"Oh," Sam says. "Oh, man, I can do _that_. If you think you're ready for the full glory of Sam Wilson's amazing body."

"I can handle it," Steve says. "Thanks, Sam."

The words sink in, weighted by their sincerity. Sam grins. "I know you just mean for the coffee--but you're welcome."


End file.
